


It Would Be a Simple Interview

by alabasterblaze



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, WikiLeaks - Fandom
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Oral Sex, Plotty, The Author Regrets Nothing, elisabeth sladen's hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabasterblaze/pseuds/alabasterblaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Jane Smith wants to see the man of the moment, Julian Assange and stuff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Would Be a Simple Interview

**Author's Note:**

> fuck me this is going to be awkward.

It would be a simple interview, something the public would enjoy a candid, off the beaten path interview with man of the moment, someone after her own heart really, when she got down to the bottom of it, he was saving Earth from itself, basically what she did, only she worked against Androvax and Judoon, not Governments of the world and banks.

And the fact he fought for transparency was most definitely a major addition, though some secrets she felt, were to keep people from panicking over aliens.

Well, he had his heart in the right place…

Sarah Jane Smith shifted gears and parked in alley way beside the Ecuadorian embassy. It was a quick 20 minute ride. Traffic was unbelievably thin.  She checked her coat pocket as she exited the car, all set, sonic lip stick, audio recorder, a release badge from UNIT she kept on her at all times, just in case a fellow human stopped by and wanted to know what she was doing.

Thank you Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart!

_No time like the present_ , she thought jumping out of her car suddenly and sonicking the CCTV cameras all around her.  She was more or less breaking and entering, like usual, why should this be any different?

She closed the car door with a bump of her thigh. It was a bit too late to back out now. What the hell? Back out her? Why the sudden wave of apprehension? She was Sarah Jane Smith; she had torn into the worst of politicians and made them quiver! She’d defeated all loads of aliens! One measly whistle-blower that gotten under people’s skins should not be anything to worry about!

She laughed off all worries -Of course not.

Breezing by security was of course a synch. It was lax, they’d let her in if she flashed ID anyhow, and of course, she was never careful always prepared for situations such as this.

She had downloaded maps from Mister Smith ahead of time so she knew which door was which and what type of key was needed. Of course, she’d not need a key. That’s what a bit of lippie was for!

Speaking of lippie…she tugged on the door to find it unlocked, well he was the least tight of anyone, and he was the one the world was determining if a bullet would suffice him, or not, after all, he’d die a martyr’s death.

“Jac-oh!” A heavy Australian accent drew out.  “And who are you?” He said looking down at the petite woman in front of him, “Front desk security didn’t ring up to say any one wanted to see me?” His face was full of questions. And who was this beautiful woman that came packaged up so nicely, complete with a leather jacket and a waist coat?

“Sarah Jane Smith, Journalist. Mister Assange, I’d like to have a personal insight into the editor of Wikileak’s mind personal, candid, and of course, “She laid on the flattery, it helped when interviewing men, and she liked that feeling she got when knew she had a story in the bag! “Insight! Just the thing my readers will eat up!” She gritted her teeth at that term; she had a moment’s flash back of the Bane.

“I think I’ve seen your name in the papers a lot.” He flipped over mentally the large amounts of local and national papers he’s read as he was holed up in the embassy. This woman was England’s premiere writer! She had her fingers into every subject from political to science even things to do with children. He was taken aback. So she’d come to call, maybe she’s in a slouch, but then again, she did write that article in the Guardian last week covering UNIT’s involvement at the National Gallery.

“Er- come in.” He ushered her in placing his right hand on the small of her back, he felt her stiffen under it and then let off, leading her to a seat. He scooted his desk chair over and asked, grinning over at her. “I’ve got tea, that’s what you Brits like? I’ve got coffee if you want…” He was going to be a gentleman if it killed him, with her as the writer, any funny business would turn him in and he’d go to jail for everything stat. Crowds would riot for his execution. 

He’d never seen a sight such as this Miss Smith lady. His head exploded briefly with thousands of dangerous, possibly illegal actions. He had to control himself! He chided himself mentally. She procured a pen and pad, placed an old fashion audio recorder on the table, a new tape in he saw, and smiled indulgently, “Yes, two sugars though. No cream.” She grimaced in spite of herself. She really hated cream.

Julian, in the flesh was over bearing, but she was used to over bearing. He gave off the same Devil May Care aura the Doctor did.  Courage, she sensed loads of courage radiating from this man, it was the overbearing thing about him, that hair was another thing, so white, possibly bleached from years of hot summers growing up. She smiled, she was nearly twenty years senior, he’d been a specky teen hacking away on a dull Commodore by the time she’d already travelled the galaxy and gotten her age spot.

But then again, she had always scrubbed up good, and she did have a youthful appearance, she remembered poor Andrea’s jealousy over that. And Luke confided to her of Maria’s smitten feelings for her. She still had it.

He sat down with two piping cuppas and a spoon for her, she seemed like she was zeroing in on his very essence. It was unnerving, but at the same time comforting, usually on interviews the person would be dull, vacant, and not willing to drop any old notions before going in. She seemed ready to hear, ready to know, and of course, any notions she had were most likely those she’d cobbled together. Not the media’s…

Then again she _was_ the media. 

He slid the swivel chair forward until their knees all but touched, handing her the tea, she took a sip, “The perfect ratio of sugar to brew. Full marks.” She announced.

The approval flushed through his system like a wild fire.

Both sat drinking their tea for a second, analysing each other in silence. Sarah Jane- dissecting and conducing, Julian probing and searching. “Where will we begin?” They simultaneously asked.

Laughing it off for a second, a soprano and bass, mixed the air. She clicked on the recorder and started writing.

“About your hacking days- did you find the thrill of it?” She challenged. “You do seem to have a running pattern, from delinquent charges, to your current dilemma, all seem to have noble causes behind them, some would point to trouble with authority, but others link to a deep seated God Complex.” She skewered him with her eyes. She thought the God Complex. She’d met someone before with the mightiest of God Complexes. She’d met loads of them, enough to fill a room.

“A God Complex, hmm…hmm... I think not, I have a duty, and a right to exercise the force needed to make sure the populace is well informed in case anyone power of government tries to take away freedoms from other or harm another people.” The words did not flow out like they usually did; usually it took a second to come up with a minute long answer. With her severe fringe and speedy pen he was intimidated. He was scared, and frankly, he was turned on by this woman. She had a spark to her no other woman had.  From the fire in her eyes, to the way she held herself. She was like that fire on the Magnetic Islands when he was a boy, dangerous and seductive. She pushed away aberrant thoughts.

She noticed him looked and continued on. He was in a long line of beings that fancied her, all genders, and so many species had taken a shining to her, though she’d always had a leaning towards asexual Time-Lords wearing very long scarves. But he was nice to look at all the same, what was that word the kids used now days? A Muffin? Julian Assange was a muffin.

“So you consider yourself a freedom fighter, not just any type, but a fully-fledged leader of the age of information?” She pointedly picked at his status.

“Not a leader, just person who’s attracted attention.” He defended himself.

“Oh? Attention, throngs of people await vigil outside your window, always talking? The scandals? What about the fact you always have a cheeky little grin on your face?” she cut him deeply. She was having not an ounce of relief on him. Keep work, work.

“Well, frankly, I do love it, but I have to remain vigilant and keep my ego more or less at bay. Can we go off the record Miss Smith?” He asked cocking his head to the side.

She reached over and clicked it in one smooth step. She write something else down and closed her book placing the pen neatly on top, she stared over in a general, serious matter. “What do you wish to say that cannot be said?” She asked, her hair flying a bit, it was distracting.

On the one hand Mister Assange seemed intelligent and clean, on the other he seemed a bit troubled and like he was constantly battling himself. This _was_ intimate, she saw him, Julian Assange, not Julian Assange, editor of WikiLeaks. She knew she had some skill at this, but not this amount of it.

“You are rather distracting, not in a bad way, just you are compelling. “ He said playing with his hands.  “You just draw me in; it’s throwing me off of whatever game I have.” He leaned in and placed his hands on his face, his pinkie finger resting on his lips.

Sarah Jane drew a breath; she had a thought of kissing that finger. She shook her head and disguised it as fixing her fringe. She leaned back a tad. She did have an errant racy thought, but she had to keep herself in check! _Dammit Smith!_ She scolded herself.  She was an adult and this would be robbing from a pram. Sure he and she were well over the age of consent in any country, but still.

Then she thought of the Doctor. She composed herself. She would try having a flirt, maybe chatting him up, but she saw some road blocks, mainly age and her ever-staying affections for the Doctor. But the Doctor had abandoned her for younger girls, why not do the same for his part?

Vengeance and her getting on with her life completely.  Sure Josh Townsend and Peter Dalton were lovely, but there had only been one man for her then. She reviewed the fact this man, the man pouting and playing with his hands had a half dozen children and notoriety for one night stands.

It couldn’t hurt, and plus, she could no longer bear a child.  No worries there!

She was free, Skye was at football practise and she wanted to see a movie with her friends after school, the parents taking the trio of girls that she’d befriended were nice and she’d ring if any trouble occurred.

“So, you find me distracting?” She said playing innocent. “What could it be? Could it be my perfume?” She quirked her mouth into a not so playful smile. She wasn’t wearing perfume, just deodorant and a tad bit of her body wash’s scent lingered. Perfume lingered, sometimes it was a thing aliens used to track you…

“Yes, you are really intense.  You are a flame.”  He said sheepishly, he was sure he would get the boot now. The top journalist would write him off as a sleazy man ready to do anything for a quick fuck. Panic flushed through his whole system.

She bit the inside of her lips, she had not a clue how to flirt. This was something she hadn’t ever learnt, she was too busy learning the systems of the world, not the systems of sex and sexuality. Also, she went to great lengths in secondary school to avoid the drama and such her friends were all being drawn into, plus she rather liked the French teacher, a lovely strawberry blonde with a light voice and a kind soul. She cringed on the inside, the age gap thing.

Age gap on this on be damned then!

“If this is off the record, we might drop pretence.” She finally said after nearly a minute of stony silence echoing through the room.  “I’ll be Sarah Jane. You’ll be Julian.” She smiled placing a hand on his shoulder. Gently. Gently!  “You are compelling, at first I thought it was something good for my readers to have a look inside Julian Assange’s heart, but now I think the compelling is I was drawn to you.” She put the bait up on top, she was the bait. She sat up almost aristocratically.

“Good, I was worried if I did anything you might repo-hey, is this a joke?” He felt a tad bit of anger in his chest, “Are you trying to get something on me?” Paranoia rushed through him. She was setting him up? Was she, was she not? He pushed back.

She grabbed onto his hand and pulled him in. Obviously, someone in his position would be paranoid. “Not at all. Come on Julian we are both adults here. And what happens between us will not make the cut at all, and it’d be easier to conduct the interview when hormones aren’t driving us both mad.” She caressed his cheek. Rani did that with Clyde. It seemed safe.

He felt a shiver run down his spin, he hand felt comforting, soft from lotion, but not unfamiliar to hard work. He was ready to do anything.  He usually was quite dominant with the women he took to, but this one had all the cards in her hand and he knew it.

She leaned over and kissed him chastely. His eyes popped. He turned around quickly and grabbed her wrists and started kissing her back with ferocity. Then he stopped, he felt a bit like she might pop up and say “Surprise! Only wanted to get a story on your libido.” And walk away.

“Don’t stop.” She coyly whispered. Oh she was having fun! She danced her fingers up his arm; she noted the tee shirt was a cotton rayon blend. She had to turn her mind off, this was a matter of the body. She had to be Sarah Jane, lover, not Sarah Jane, journalist, mother, and more than part time Secret Earth Saver.

Julian cocked his head, “If you’re interested, the bed’s that way.” He pointed to a simply frame and mattress set up.  She hadn’t expected to be seduced, so frankly she was in a ratty bra and a pair of simple briefs. She mind was racing through the motions of what happened next? She had the sex talk with both her children, she’s had sex before, loads of it, but honestly, she felt out of practise.

He grinned, he felt a bit more like himself, none of this out of body experiences he was experiencing. It seemed that he had finally met his match, and he’d accepted that so he was fine and gotten over that barrier. If he put his mind on her beauty his body would follow suit.

Sarah Jane placed a finger to his lips. She knew from journalist’s instinct he was being played by her like a fiddle. Basic journalism one-oh-one. Get the subject talking, and then hook them to say what you need them to, and only that.

She moved over there, deftly, as if it was a corridor and she were just chasing after the next baddie.  She took of her jacket and her vest, she was glad he kept the room rather temperate. She knew he had a thing for girls- the rape cases, the smitten emails, the bastards everywhere. Though the last could be some superiority complex coming out, she psychoanalyse him later from the comforts of her home, perhaps a glass of wine.

“Care to help me with my shirt?” She asked spreading her arms out. “Now don’t be shy Assange.” She beckoned him. He hopped forward and started to do it, the buttons were tiny, he noted, the shirt was a white dress shirt. He ended up getting frustrated and just popping the buttons off. He quickly tossed that aside and undid his belt, shimming down his pants, the coy lady had leaned down a t tad bit, propping herself up by the elbow and had a rather pensive look to her. He quickly disposed for his shirt and then pushed her down onto the bed. 

Laid on the bed in such a way, she could see every inch of him, and she could direct.

He undid her belt; he noticed she had the eye for finer things.  Even the bra she had on, care worn but showed signs of being cut from finer cloths. He pulled down her tight skinny jeans and then took off her boots. Usually when he needed quick shagging he called a call girl. Those have heels and removable dresses, this woman here had dressed for almost a battle, her leather jacket, the buttoned waist coat, the heavy soled boots, and this was a woman who’d seen things. He felt like if he didn’t please her he’d fail.

He tossed the boots aside. They made a rather large clunking noise.

Her underwear were just an obstacle, he approached as if it were something needed breaking into, hacking, yes, good way to look at it.

They were simple. And he was taking too much time, “Care to get a move on?” She asked.

“Right.” He tore those off. Quite literally, she grimaced; she’d have to drive home sans knickers.  Denim would chafe.

This woman was slender, not an ounce of fat on her, muscles that were very effeminate, yet he reckoned that they could most likely rip him to shred physically if needed.

He figured foreplay would be the best option here.  He lowered his head to the vicinity of her pubic area. He touched her labia minora with his pointer finger. Licking gently up ward and then down in long licks then alternating, paying attention to her clitoris he gave a slight suck. He knew women enjoyed it if you paid more attention to them, and oh- did he love women, and if they were happy so was he!

She moaned. It was a great feeling. Oh her clit! The feel of lips and a bit of stubble the warmth of breath felt blissful. She bucked against that. Hip hips pointing out in dangerous angles, straight into Julian’s face.  Oh! Sweet release and delight. She felt herself growing moist with his factions.  He quickened up the pace up then. She let out a very unlady like moan. Gasping, she tried to breathe, the feel of him tasting her was far too much for her!

So that’s how she liked it! He decided enough of that was enough. He was ready for it now. He had to take her now, the hardness was growing too painful. He needed his release, his filling of a vacant hole inside his soul.

Hunkering down, he straddled her, leaning down, his arms bracing over her shoulders, looking such deep hazel eyes. They were rimmed with lust and steady with the look of someone who will not be toyed with.

“Is it okay-“ He hesitated.

“Of course!” She scolded, “I’ve been waiting.”  She rolled her eyes.  She let it hang in the air, she’d enjoyed the personal attention, but she wanted to assert another position.  Of course he was able to do this quite well, but she had other plans. And her demands must be met!

He entered her, and you know what? The sudden invasion of her fanny did feel rather good. She let him have his go for a tad bit.  It did not take long for her to pull him off of her, and turn him over. She was on top now, and that is just the way she liked it. She always had to be on top of everything, from classes, to stories, even the laundry.

Julian was bewildered.  He inferred that she was strong but she flipped him over like it was a walk in the park or she was closing a cupboard door! But still- the elation of seeing a beautiful lady on top of him sent shivers down his spine! He had years cooped up in here to wonder why she was so strong.

He was always so dominant. Except now, she was in charge, his turn to submit.  And she made sure of it. 

Straddled on top of him was a good vantage point. He chest was impressive, muscled, and broad, reminded her of _her_ Doctor’s. She pushed that thought away.  Those thoughts belonged in a pile away from this moment.  This man was a warm human, white blond and just a tad bit of weight collected around him in ways she could use to her advantage. Powerful.

Speaking of weight, she put her full weight upon him.  Lowering herself onto his ready cock, ( _Oh for God’s sake_ , she thought, _men are overtly needy_.) she thought up what she could do to make this beneficial for both.

She leaned over a tad bit, her hair falling over her right shoulder, a strand or two caressing her breast. She let a slight moan out at that feeling.  She felt younger than ever and keener on herself. She placed her hands on his chest, digging her nails in just a tab bit for leverage.  Massaging gently in a fan like motion, she grinded hips and arse in a back in forth motion, revelling in the feeling of him inside of him. Sarah Jane groaned in euphoria. Grabbing two handfuls of his chest hair she started rocking (bouncing?) back and forth.  Starting on a steady rhythm she ran through basic things she’d heard of or seen on telly by half chance skimming through.

She frowned slightly; she was more out of practise than she thought! She found a good speed for her and went with it. The slight wobble of the mattress added a bit of force.  She suddenly grew rather impatient with herself. Impatient hands gripped at the man’s arms, tugging him down and pinning her to the mattress before moving to tug his chin. She kissed him, forcing her tongue down his throat. The gripping at his hair, entangling her hand all throughout it, oh Cripes! Was it soft! She ran her hands down his body, keeping the motion pretty much going.

She removed one hand and slipped it down towards his bum and put her hand on it and guided it up, leg and forcing it to bow.

He couldn’t help it, the feel of nails cutting into him, the force of the small woman he thrust upwards into her.  He was getting close, he was to the breaking point, she was rough and feisty, and warm and delicate. She felt like a sheath, tight, and the perfect fit. He had a knot in his stomach.  He pulled her down and kissed her, and then he pulled himself out of her.  He put two fingers inside her vagina and then quickly out.

They were coated with their combined liquids. Pre-cum for him and straight out cum from her. He had a wicked idea, something he thought she’d enjoy, because she liked to see people quiver. He licked the juices of his fingers as if it were Vegemite or Marmite as it was known in this country.

She was slightly repulsed, but there you have it. She rolled her eyes and batted her eyelashes.  She then drew knowledge from that ITV show about a whore that caught her attention one night for a month. Fellatio.

“Is that a hint, Mister Assange?”

“Hint of what?” He waggled his eyebrows. What the hell was this woman getting at?

She smiled most deviously, “I am quite sure you’ll like this one.” She popped down to between his legs and gave a quick air kiss before.  Sarah Jane glanced up confidently through her eyelashes at the man and licked their lips. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she pressed her pink tip to his tip, flicking her wet tongue over the slit.  She then dragged her teeth gently over the side and popped his dick into her mouth. It felt like that one time she was possessed by the Androvax. And she was way out of her depth here. 

He didn’t know if he should be doing this, but he couldn’t focus on that right now: she felt so good on him. It was the most awkward blowjob he’d ever received. But her mouth was so warm.

It felt good none the less, and it made him realise exactly how close he was. He yanked her up by her arms. And dragged up back onto his chest. He pat her hair and his hands travelled down her spine onto her ass, hitching her up and back onto her back gently. He forced himself back inside her for one last hurrah, he felt her expand and she slapped him.

Slapping him was the only logical thing at this point. She was past her point and felt a tab bit like a failure. Staring him in the eyes she looked him square.

That slap plus eye contact made him sure of it. He hitched and came, his breath ragged. He felt cum leak over his stomach and he laid down. He weight of his errection no longer painful, he just wanted to pet her hair and stare at the woman who drove him mad like she was doing to him. She rolled over and looked up at the ceiling.

“Congratulations.” She huffed. “You have left me confused. Take this as a great reward.”

He pet her hair, “You might have to go now.” He realised. 

“Of course. I have to write an article on you.”

“Oh- really?”

“Yes. The title will say, ‘Assange, a Mystery Man.’” She laughed, getting up. “Is there a loo that I can use?  I can’t go to my car soaked and dishevelled.

He pointed, she grabbed clothes and ran to it, that magnificent arse followed suit.  She turnt on the water and soon she was out and looked fresher than ever, a glow hanging from her.

“I must get going now.” She offered her hand out, he shook it and then pulled in for one last kiss before he saluted her.

As she walked out the door she turned, “I hope you enjoyed yourself. I did.”

The door closed and she walked out to the car, driving home she was lost in her thoughts; she had gone out of this in a daze. She felt lively and young again. She got out a laptop and clicked away at Microsoft Word writing the perfect story, a physiological piece into his mind with a warm tea and an Afghan to guide her. She had a tale to spin _. Again_.

Two Weeks Later:

Julian got a message from Jacob saying to read the Guardian, everyone was buzzing, and he’d just gotten the paper moments ago, the front cover. Something about him- _again_!

It was an article by a Miss Sarah Jane Smith.

_“Julian Assange, 42 is the least likely person to show any hesitation, but in a candid interview he showed more humanity than ever as a champion for women’s rights and free speech.  But what goes on deeper in his mind? How exactly human is the man? Full details on page A4.”_

A text from his UK lawyer rang in, “The Guardian article is what people needed to know, very helpful on pleading your cases.”

All was good, and yet still, reading the quote, “unable to help himself and hands that have minds of their own.” Left him feeling like he’d have to sit down and look up what he could on her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> told you so.


End file.
